LIBRARY OF CONG'RESS. 

Chap. Copyright No. 

Shelf.^L-T7 L ^ 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



S-ONNETS 

BY 

WM. V. LAWRANCE. 






CINCINNATI', 

THE EDITOR PUBLISHING COMPANY. 

OOPTRIGHT. 

1898. 



The Loves of Laos 



IN 



SONNETS SUNG. 



jHiioCC' 




wo COPIES RECEIVED. 



ALL things are made diverse or so they seem, 

When we would contemplate with sober thought ;, 
Yet half the world would rather lie and dream, 

Than seek for truth they never find unsought. 
We love the false because we will not know 

The true for fear that truth will work us ill; 
Like perverse crabs we rather backward go, 

Because in going thus we have our will ! 
In not one thing nor in the many lie 

The blessings we have thought for us in store ; 
The brightest days unblessed will pass us by, 

While from the clouds will showers of blessings pour ! 
Live man, for man ! that meaneth ev'ry one 

To thee is brother underneath the sun ! 



INITIAL. 

IF Wh}' art thou ? were asked of trembling soul 

Fresh from the hand of soul-ereative power, 
'T would frighten it to silence : so the whole 

Created life existant to this hour, 
Would hush its learned contentions and stand dumb 

Before its questioner. Vv^ho answer hath 
Must not alone look to the j'^ears to come, 

Nor seek for answer in the beaten path 
The Past hath trod, nor where the Present strays. 

To answer is to know ! Who knoweth why 
The sun hath never lost one of its rays, 

Or how the pencilled light can paint the sky, 
Or why things are or only seem to be. 

Might answer, yet there would be mystery. 



II. 

WE see the butterfly on painted wing, 

We taste the honey in the fragrant flower, 
We hear the birds their songs of gladness sing, 

We see the shadow mark the passing hour, 
And note in nests first eggs, then moulting young, 

That ev'ry kind hath either mate or wife. 
And for each kind there is familiar tongue. 

While base and end of all things here is life! 
Yet after each there stalks with tread of king 

A threatening shadow armed with spear to smite, 
And at its touch each form falls shuddering. 

And life goes back into the realms of night! 
So grows the mystery, and who can give 

The answer, since we die, why do we live? 



SONNET I. 
THOU art most beautiful for eye to see, 

And on thy cheek sits sweetest bloom alway ; 
No form so lithe as thine, so fresh and free. 

It bends like lily to the soft wind's play 
Across the grass, as Zephyr with warm lips 

Wet with the dews, kisses thy brow of snow! 
O could I bend above thy finger-tips, 

Or feel them touch my hot and throbbing brow ! 
Could I but breathe one sigh of thy sweet breath, 

I would grow drunken on its amorous wine, 
And laugh to scorn the icy darts of death. 

Because within that one sweet breath of thine 
Would be the life that never more should die, 

Since in it lies a soul's eternity ! 



SONNET II. 

O that I could but gather up thy smiles, 

And of them weave a garland set with flowers 
A hundred meadows grow ! as in them whiles 

The faiiy footed, golden winged hours 
That gather as I crown thee queen of all. 

And fairest of the fair. Bright Iris spans 
Not with her seven-hued bow, as softly fall 

The slackening drops, while Zephyr fans 
The crimson cheek of Eve, nothing so sweet 

As thou thus garlanded ! The gardens die, 
The rain- bow fades, the hastening fairy feet 

Through meadows at the Autumn's coming fly; 
But thou art constant in thy smiles, while tears 
Add to thy beauty as it thus appears ! 



SONNET III. 

THE scorn of thy sweet lips to me is sweet — 

Ah! sweeter than another's smile though given 
From sunny hearts of love, because 'tis meet 

That e'en the frowns of once propitious Heaven 
Though dark, come from the same sweet source its smiles 

That have so often blest, have sprung; 
The gay the darker of its frowns beguiles, 

And in its light across the shadows flung, 
Flames up in golden letters on the night, 

The story of the days whose setting sun 
Dips never in the west its fadeless light, 

Bat shines forever, as it first begun; 
So are thy scorn, thy frowns, plunged in this flood 

Purged of all stain, themselves become the good 



SONNET VI. 

THE storm swept by, the thunder then grew hushed, 

A million gems hung pendant from the trees; 
When like a great broad sea, the sunshine gushed 

From scattered clouds, heaven's golden argosies, 
And on the wall of passing eloud it threw 

A world of laughing color into form ; 
At thought of which, all earth enraptured grew 

That for the rain-bow God had made the storm ! 
Yet, sitting in thy bower where hung the pearls 

The storm had throwm away, I saw thee then, 
The golden glint and lialo on thy curls, 

Outrivalling all this glor}^ shone, for when 
The sun withdraws his light the bow is gone, 

While thy undying beauty ever shall live on! 



SONNET VII. 

THE morning sun had wrought v/ith purple hem 

The ckiud-fringed garments of the %ing nighty 
And on young Day had set his diadem, 

Rich jewelled with a thou.sand flames of light, 
In wondrous glory ! yet, when from thy bath 

Thou didst come forth as Naiad from the sea, 
The world grew luminous around thy path. 

While Morn's full glory grew but dull to me 
Because of thy far brighter luster given. 

Which has the glory of the lightning's play 
Across the broad expanse of broadest heaven, 

Save that from me thou art not snatched away ; 
No ; thou art of my life, and life to me 

Most glorious and beautiful to see ! 



SONNET VIII. 

BENEATH a rosebush budding into flower 

In dewy morning's wakening hour, I found 
Thee Ijnng fast asleep ! A dewy shower 

Bold Zephyr shook from fiowery hearts around, 
From which aromas filled the purple air, 

Enthralling sense as thou hast done the sight; 
The birds and beasts enchanted, gathered there, 

And sang and lowed their gladdened hearts' delight. 
What could I do hut then to faint and fall 

Prone on the dew-wet, flower-besprinkled grass. 
With face close laid to thine — eyes shut and all 

My soul gone out and quenched in love ! Alas ! 
Why could I not, thus lying there, have died 

In Morn's soft, purple robes wrapped by thy side? 



SONNET IX. 

I met thee in the dewy path which led 

Beneath the apple's blossom-laden boughs, 
Where thou with eyes askance and tossing head, 

Had passed me by, save for thy lifting brows. 
Without a sign that we had ever met. 

Had I not — pressed by love and passion-mad — 
Caught thy sweet face between my hands, still wet 

With scented dews, and kissed thy mouth, — forbade 
To eager lips, — with my love- hungering eyes ! 

I dared to hope, and since have learned as truth. 
That thou didst offer then the mysteries 

Hid in that crimson, pearly gate of youth, 
As mine, save for the taking! Crowns, when won 

And thrown away, leave wearer less undone ! 



SONNET X. 

I heard a linnet sing, methoiight, and yet 

The strain was tuned so sweet no bird could reach 
The grandeur of the notes so richly set 

To golden key, as from a spreading beech, 
Lone standing in a grassy plain, the song 

Poured forth in flood that hushed all song beside ! 
As I in wonder stood enchained, tliy long, 

Gold-glinting locks with purple asters tied, 
Flashed on my sight! and then at once I knew 

Those notes were not the bird-notes that I wot, 
But were Love's music wrought in song anew — 

Once heard from thy sweet lips, no more forgot ; 
They breathe forever from the soul aflame, 

A song all hearts would sing in Love's svreet name! 



SONNET XI. 

THE moon hung michvay in a silvery shroud, 

The night lay hushed and still along the plain ; 
The heavens, save this, had nowhere mist or cloud. 

Except the Milky-way's long, pearly stain, 
To mar its brightness. On such a night as this, 

In robes of woven mist, they were so fine, 
I met thee coming as a dream of bliss — 

A dream forever more it shall be mine — 
Thine eyes were like to living coals whose light 

Is softened by the ashen film of blue. 
Which quenches hate and lets the glowing sight 

Of Love from out their coral gates look through ! 
And he sat there, and from their glance a dart 

He plucked and with it pierced my leaping heart! 



SONNET XII. 

ASLEEP I lay, beneath the oaken boughs 

Wide-stretching from a mighty forest tree, 
Majestic in its solitude ! My brows 

Were bound with poppies, and sweet dreams to me 
Came from the flowers and filled me with delight! 

Soft arms embraced, warm lips sweet kisses pressed 
On my hot lips, and purple clouds of light 

Hung curtained round like bridal-chamber dressed; 
Soft odors, wondrous in their soothing powers. 

Bathed all the air, and music that no ear 
Of clay could hear, filled me ! A dream of flowers 

Was everywhere I I knew that thou were near, 
So, rousing, oped mine eyes, and then it seemed 

I was awake before, while now I dreamed! 



SONNET XIII. 

THOU wert my troth and I thy champioa 

To battle for thy safety aad thy good ; 
Through love of thee were all my victories won ; 

I, in thy smile thine enemies withstood. 
Hadst thou but frowned, mine arm had powerless grown- 

Hadst thou grown cold my heart had in me died ! 
But in thy smile my arm was strong and bold, 

And by thy presence stayed, I death defied ! 
Thy love gave strength, that strength I gave to thee ; 

Thy smile thrice armed, I smote them hip and thigh ! 
So was I hope to thee, thou strength to me, 

And doubting not each did on each rely ; 
Thus both were conquerors, and this doth prove 
The victor o'er the world at last, is Love ! 



SONNET XIV. 

AS champion, whatever gage thrown down, 

I must perforce take up, and that right quick 
I did, nor questioned whence it came. A frown 

Of faintest cloud across the sky, the trick 
Of sudden winds blown on thee sharp and chill, 

My challenge drew, nor did I bate my wrath 
Until the skies were cleared of cloud, until 

The melting Zephyrs breathed along thy path 
The welcome call to life, they joyous bring 

From Arcturus, instinct with throbbing soul 
That moves within the quickened heart of spring ! 

And thou, reviving, perfect now and whole, 
Beamed on me Math a smile whose radiant glow 
Would rouse a dastard's heart 'gainst giant f oe f 



SONNET XV. 

ONE morn I found thee drowned in falling tears, 

With sable mantle shrouding thy bowed form, 
While towering o'er thee shrinking in thy fears. 

The presence of a fierce embattled storm 
Whose black wings beat upon thy head and tore 

Thy dripping robes — thy matted, golden hair. 
Like hissing snakes, writhing in torments sore. 

They tossed and twined about thy forehead fair, 
Until from fright and pain, in death-like faint. 

Prone at his feet I saw thee fall ! Then I, 
Nor fear nor power could hold me in restraint — 

Charged the dread foe and drove him from the sky, 
When lo ! from riven clovids the morn shone through, 

Yet thou wert far more sweet to my charmed view ! 



S-ONNET XVI. 

WHEN fiereest suns burned in the midday sky, 

And hot winds parched the plains with fiery breath, 
Where deepest streams through bleaching sands ran dry, 

And all of life was languishing in death, 
I saw tbee stretched beneath a leafless palm, 

Short-gasping for thy life, as at thy throat 
Long, bony fingers clutched ! A breathless calm 

Stills thy low sighs, while on thee gaunt eyes gloat 
In hungry eagerness, athirst to drink 

Thy crimson life, too faint to flush thy cheek! 
A frenzy siezed — no power had I to think. 

But grasped the Phantom, I no longer weak — 
And hurled to earth ! The mists from thy glad eyes 

Drew floods descending from the melting skies ! 



SONNET XVII. 

I heard thy low cry in the dusk of night, 

As one who, perishing, makes last appeal ! 
The darkness hides thee from my straining sight; 

Cold, icy winds the dews to frost congeal ! 
I found thee perishing on dewy bed 

Of roses sodden, in the cold embrace 
Of thy dread foe — thy guardian Zephyr fled — 

His icy touch caressing thj"- sweet face, 
I thrust him thence, and gathering up the mist, 

Spread its white mantle o'er thy naked form ; 
Thy pallid lips to purple glow I kissed ; 

From out my heart I poured its currents warm, 
Into thine own, until the day leaped forth 

And drove with flame thy foe unto the north. 



SONNET XVIII. 

THY victor-champion, I walk beside thee now, 

Crowned with thy love entwined among my bays ; 
Soft breezes only kiss thy queenly brow; 

Rare gardens Love now under tribute lays, 
To weave thee robes of rich and many hues. 

And crowns the envy of the queens of Ind ! 
The flowers pour out from hearts their scented dews ; 

Thy wrists and ankles with their Jewels bind; 
The birds their choirs have gathered in each grove, 

And as we come they greet with wondrous song, 
In every note of which a tale of love 

Is burden of each little heart and tongue ! 
If birds for love thus sing and flowers die, 

With thee beside me, can I question why? 



SONNET XIX. 

SO I had saved thee from thine enemies — 

Had snatched thee from the very Jaws of death, 
For which thou wert most grateful, and thine eyes 

Gave thanks as sweet and fragrant as thy breath ; 
And I had dared an hundred fold 'gainst Fate 

To add one smile, one ray more light to gain! 
Though large thy gift such thirst did it create 

For largess that my soul could not contain! 
And yet, when I did ask thee for one smile, 

Such flood was sent that in the golden rain 
My head was beaten low with joy, erstwhile, 

It had bowed down as low in abject sorrow, 
When hope had left no solace for To-morrow ! 



SONNET XX. 

SO we grew friends and more : our paths now lay 

Through mead and meadow sweetly side by side ; 
Thou wert my morning song, my light, my day ; 

Thou wert my hope in all things to abide — 
So that I lived in thee — thou gavest hue 

To flowers and sunshine all unknown before, 
And notes to music that, though old, seemed new ; 

While vines which late but common fruitage bore, 
At thy soft touch distilled in purple flood 

Their spirits into wine, and as I drank. 
Its fiery current mingled with my blood. 

And I soon drunken grew : and thus I sank 
Upon the couch thou hadst prepared for me. 

To think that I had only dreamed of thee ! 



SONNET XXI. 

HOW sweet have all things grown since I have told 

And thou hast heard my love ! The flowers so sweet 
Before, their sweets more than a thousand fold 

Increased: the morn v/ith brighter smiles doth meet 
Our coming feet, as we walk side by side 

Through paths of dew, in which thine arbors shine, 
Yet all this is for thee my would-be bride ! 

They drench Love's altars with the nuptial wine, 
So that all this is but reflected through 

The mirror of thy beauty, where I see 
What seemed but shadow is the substance true, 

Made perfect in becoming part of thee ! 
So I in thee and thou in these behold 

A wondrous beauty that cannot be told ! 



SONNET XXII. 

NOW that I have thy love thou art m}^ own, 

And I may gaze on thee as one who wears 
The jewels that bedeck a sovereign's crown, 

When he the kingdom with that sovereign shares 
For art thou not a queen — -my queen — and thou 

Dost wear me in thy heart, not on thy sleeve 
For every one to pluck at, whilst thy brow 

A jewelled coronet doth now receive 
As emblem of thy reign, while sceptered hand. 

Brings many to thy feet — I with the first 
To do thee homage ! Only thou command. 

He who obeys not let him be accursed ! 
Not I that one, because my supple knee 

Will be the first of all to bow to thee. 



SONNET XXIII. 

I wooed thee all these days — I wooed and won, 

Because thy beauty crucified my heart! 
Shall I at last in winning be undone, 

Because thou art to me not what thou art? 
Never in all thy flower-emblazoned days 

When velvet youth kissed maidenhood to bloom 
Hast thou been half so beautiful ! Thy ways 

Are wondrous, yet there lies a filmy gloom 
Across the path thy stately feet now tread ; 

A chill breath bloweth when the sun goes down, 
And here and there I see a leaf fall dead, 

Blown to thy feet, all shrivelled dry and brown ; 
Whilst in thine eyes I see a shadow cast — 

Nay, 'twas the drooping lids, their light holds fast! 



SONNET XXIV. 

THOU art so beautiful that gazing on thee fills 

My soul with rapture, as from out thine eyes 
Their softened light a dewy mist distils, 

Such as we see from fields of poppies rise, 
To glorify their bloom in evening light ! 

Yet even these are fading in the grey 
That eometh ere the deeper fall of night; 

While thou dost grow more beautiful alway 
Soul of my soul, love of my fadeless love ! 

Thou canst not fade and ilee away from me, 
For I will hold thee, and in holding prove 

That Love itself is love's eternity ! 
Yet I, amid these flowers, my bride unwed. 

Some time with thee our bridal couch will spread. 



SONNET XXV. 

WHY dost thou look so wan? where is the rose 

I thought so gloriouis on thy downy cht rk? 
Have now the mists and dews become tliy f(>es, 

Conspiring with tiie sun against thee, weak 
As when thy life and being were their care? 

Have other rivals in their love conspired 
With them to cast thee ojf because more fair 

Thou wert and more than they to be desired? 
How can ihej — dare tliey do so vile a thing, 

Who bore thee in their arms in infancy? 
Who kissed thee into life and smiles — with wing 

Of Zephyr fanned the breath from broken sighs? 
False nurse, false friend, and falser lover still, 

Th}^ hands which late embr-ced are retised to kill! 



SONNET XXVI. 

THEN come away! Come thou to me and lie 

Safe in my sheltering arms, thy heaving breast 
Hushed into joy with not one quivering sigh 

To fright the night's hushed air. This be thy rest, 
For have I not the right, the love, the power 

To shelter thee who won thee from dread Death, 
Who came to thee in dark, forbidding hour. 

To blast, to burn — to freeze thee with his ])reath? 
Thy friends who smiled on thee when all was bright, 

Forsaking thee — Ah worse ! betraying too, 
Led him to thy sweet couch, Vv^here fair and white, 

Thou fast asleep didst lie, and then withdrew ! 
I heard thy cries, and armed with love alone, 

I smote each foe and thy safe battle won! 



SONNET XXVII. 

DOST thou for others than myself now pine? 

Are those who would forsake more dear to thee 
Than I, who never turned my face from thine ? 

The dial to the sun must constant be ! 
So have I cast the shadow of my soul, 

Touched by thy smile, upon the plain of life, 
And ever turned it toward the longed-for goal, 

The hour when thou shouldst be, in truth, my wifa I 
That hour, O love divine ! if love can be 

Divine in earthly hearts — teach thou this sweet 
Soul-filling power, and make it felt by me 

As she has one time taught ! Then all complete, 
We shall become as one, with not one fear 

To chill the growing ardor of its cheer ! 



SONNET XXVIII. 

I had not thought that thou, who wert so young, 

So beautiful and bright, would fade so soon ! 
When we first met the budding groves among, 

Thou wert in promise an immortal boon 
Of love and life and joy to me ! But now, 

The wreath is not more withered which to-day 
I plucked to twine about thy pallid brow. 

Than are thy charms. But let them fade away- 
Aye! let them turn to dust! for 'tis not these 

But thee ! Thou mortal art in bloom alone. 
My love for thee must evermore increase, 

To flower at last in winter days full blown. 
Else slumbering within its dull, grey gloom. 

Await the bursting of thy earthly tomb ! 



SONNET XXIX. 

OH ! if we had but wed when all was fair, 

Then there had been less bitter wine to drink ! 
Less hot-blown sighs, less moments of despair 

That thrust them on my heart before I think ! 
For now I feel thee slipping from my grasp. 

And I no right to hold thee, save through love. 
I see thee fading as thy form I clasp. 

And like a ghostly shadow from me move 
With head bowed low, brow white, and loosened hair 

That whips thy shoulders in sere garments clad, 
Like stinging serpents, while thy face, yet fair. 

Is deathlike in its hue and deathly sad ! 
Oh stay ! my hand clasp yet again and stay, 

And tarry with me until close of day ! 



SONNET XXX. 

THOU didst I'emain with me the whole day through 

Nor shunned the night, but on thy couch didst lie, 
And there, as was thy wont before to do, 

Slept sweetly ! while beside thee watching, I 
Poured floods from eyes that never closed in sleep, 

Until the grey dawn came ; then bathed in dew, 
So thou shouldst never know that I could weep. 

My tear-red eyes ! Let us this hour renew 
The joys of yesterday so that to-day 

Shall add to them its sweet, though frugal store. 
Lead through thy bowers, what though no longer gay ! 

To us still centers all our pleasures there 
Of precious things of life ! Why wilt thou fly, 

Nor give to me the joy with thee to die ! 



SONNET XXXI. 

OH that I could but clasp thee to my heart 

And feel thy heart-throbs answering back to mine ! 
That we might tread this path no more to part, 

That thy soft, loving arms might round me twine— 
Thy fragrant mouth with kisses filled once more, 

Soft-pressing on my lips, thrill me with love 
So sweet, so wonderful, that all my power 

Would rise within my soul and to thee move 
'Till I become as Love himself ! Alas ! 

That what is real can become a dream ! 
That life in thee could thus before me pass, 

Like bursting bubbles flowing down some stream, 
While I upon the bank compelled to stand, 

Must wave adieu with agonizing hand ! 



REFLECTION. 

SONNET. 

AND so we watch the bubbles on the stream 

Where flow the waters clear and rippling by; 
Hope's dazzling gems along the surface gleam, 

And to the heart but promise days of joy ! 
So reach w^e out to Time imploring hands 

And plead with him the passing hour to stay ! 
Impotent he, to answer our demands. 

For he can neither hasten nor delay. 
Oh ! if we would improve that which is given 

While time awaits, our sun would nerrer set 
Upon defeat where we have nobly striven. 

Nor leave to us the sorrows of regret ! 
Nor Time nor Love nor Hope will for us stay. 

They offer once but never will delay ! 



INTERLUDE. 

WE laugh at love if other love it be 

Than that which cometh near to our own hearts ; 
The foolishness of what we often see 

Is from the side we look at'it. If we 
Are filled with feverish fancies, stops and starts, 

In us it is most serious complaint, 
And needs physician; but another's ill 

It would be food for laughter, though a saint 
Or vestal maiden were the sufferer] 
Within the blood there may be leprous taint 
Or madness preying on a weakened will. 

But Love, who witcheth all by his soft arts 
And maketh fool of ev'ry him and her, 

Should bear the blame and buffet to hie face, 
E'etfif we yield to his secret embrace? 



SONNET I. 

WHO Cometh through the morn so fresh and fair? 

I8 it my love returning back to me 
With roses on her cheeks, while in her hair 

The golden sunshine burning full and free? 
Look how she leaps and runs with dew-wet feet, 

Which on last eve but dragged her weight along! 
She comes with brighter smiles than erst to meet 

Me, while her lips pour out a glorious song 
That rivals, nay, outruns in joyous notes 

Her happiest moods when sang she unto me 
The songs my heart ensnared ! Hark ! how it floats 

Out through the woods and fields, a song care free — 
She draweth near ! What ! will she pass me by 
Without one glance of her most gracious eye? 



SONNET II. 

SHE knows me not, or so she makes believe, 

That I to her am strange ; for she speaks not 
Nor looks this way. Mine eyes do not deceive, 

Nor surely has she all so soon forgot 
Him whom she seemed to love right well, so late 

As at our parting yesternight ! Ah me ! 
How fickle is this thing called Love ! If hate 

Had fired her heart, throughout eternity 
It would have held her ev'ry waking thought. 

While dreams had only fed a deeper flame ! 
Love's folly, then, is thus to be forgot, 

While cheeks abashed, are mantled with red shame ! 
So I must go with heart from dead love sore, 
To dream of love that I shall know no more ! 



SONNET III. 

CAN it be she? somewhat she hath her rnein, 

Yet far more flush her cheek, and on her hair 
A deeper gold! Yet there is to be seen 
In every motion of her form so fair, 
Something most like, yet strange to my lost love! 

I will draw near to her as she bends o'er 
Yon blushing rose, and by her speech will prove 

If in her I behold my love once more. 
Nay, 'tis not she! And yet how beautiful! 

I had not thought another one could be 
Adorned with all her graces ripe and full, 

A counterpart in everything I see! 
As viewed by me uheertain from afar, 

When I draw near I know not what may mar! 



SONNET IV. 

YES, she is strange to me, and yet how like 

To her that I have lost ! How oft we hear 
In Memory's golden halls the sweet bells strike 

The chimes that ring to the accustomed ear. 
Out of the old some note so strangely new 

That we cannot untangle from the sound 
The false chord from the one we know is true! 

So, I in her behold together bound 
The charms of her I lost, and so I find 

Her in the paths and resting in the bowers 
Of her I love ! And so upon my mind 

Doth sweet confusions steal with drowsy poweni, 
Like breath of poppies blown from lips of Sleep, 

Which in bright visions all my senses steep. 



SONNET V. 

HOW wonderful the vision! It would seem 

Nature repeats herself ! Had I not known 
My love late gone from me in that strange dream 

In which it seemed she into night had flown, 
I must believe that this is she, and claim 

Her as my bride! And had I not bestowed 
My love before, she would awake the flame 

That in this heart has erstwhile hotly glowed, 
To burn more fiercely now: for in her form, 

Her face, her smile, her golden, burnished hair, 
Seems centered Love's tumultuous, rising storm. 

While all around, save in her eye, 'tis fair! 
O Heart hold fast thy faith, thy love for her 

At whose cold shrine thou late was worshipper! 



SONNET VI. 

I will draw near and speak to her! Fair Morn, 

Thou cometh with Aurora, or art she! 
For surely beauty never could adorn 

With brighter garments than are worn by thee. 
While form and face, lips, brow and burnished hair, 

Are hers, though brighter, since by thee now worni 
I know thee not, but know that thou art fair. 

Aye! wondrous fair, and Beauty now lies shorn 
To clothe thee, for no other robes could vie 

With thine — no other smile so glad, could greet 
Me with such sweetness ; from no other eye 

A glance could bring in homage at thy feet, 
The world, enraptured as a suppliant there, 

If it perchance in one poor glance might share! 



SONNET VII. 

AH! what is this which in my heart I feel? 

A pain tliat is of death shot from thine eye! 
How strange the feelings which upon me steal, 

To wake immortal thought! and yet I die 
Ifike smitten deer pierced by the hunter's dart! 

My flesh is cold and yet my veins run fire, 
And seethe like bubbling cauldron in my heart; 

And then in chill of death I would expire. 
Is thine the eye of basilisk with charm 

That robs of life else reason doth dethrone? 
That launches poisoned darts of flame to harm 

With their enchantments till thy reign all own? 
Surely there is some spell — some power within 

Those orbs that draws me with the strength of sin J 



SONNET VIII. 

thou who art the all in all of life, 

Teach me the lesson I must learn in living! 
There lies along the borderland of strife 

The spirit of forgetting and forgiving, 
That bringeth peace. But to the heart once torn 

With Love's fierce passion, where the power of healing 
Save that within this love itself, and born 

Of its own fire within itself concealing? 
The fatal hurt is healed by fateful cure ; 

Love cureth love but leaveth love remaining! 
Were it not better we the first endure 

Than spend our days in sighing and complaining? 

1 read the answer in her eyes to me, 

The new is better than the old I see. 



SONNET IX. 

if thou wert my love, that I might lie 

Here in the shadow of this rose-wreathed tree 
And gaze upon thy form in passing by, 

While all my fancy, so in thrall to thee 
Could turn in adoration! "Wherefore, Love, 

Art thou not blind when seeing but ensnares? 
Why doth thou quicken love and then reprove? 

Why promise joy and then increase our cares? 
Now that I know thou art not she, my lost 

One who was all the fullness of my life, 

1 am like mariner long tempest tossed. 

Who, through the breakers in their lashing strife. 
Sees morn break on the shore with rescue there — 
In thee my hope, between us lies despair! 



SONNET X. 

I draw still nearer thee; thou art not coy 

Like her — I mean thou art not like the bird 
Which sees the fowler's net set to destroy 

In ev'ry web of gossamer. I heard 
Thee sing; thy song has brought my heart in thrall 

To thee; I saw thy smile ; like skies at dawn 
My 80ul grew luminovis within, and all 

The shadows of its darkest night were gone! 
If thou hast care to charm away my care, 

When care hath gone may not remain the charm? 
What more may not be wrought by face so fair? 

In that which is so pure where lurks the harm? 
Love that hath come before and gone again, 

If thou invite, may come and still remain. 



SONNET XI. 

THIS seemeth strange and i8 most wondrous strange! 

If ever there was beauty it was hers ; 
How can it be the heart of love can change, 

And beauty lose, while fair, her worshipers? 
Nay, beauty does not lose but gains in thee 

One more rich flower to bloom in gardens fair ; 
Of devotees one more is found in me: 

Libations from her altars scent the air ! 
Where hast thou been? where didst thou hide away? 

That in the morn and at the fall of eve 
I found thee not before? Why so delay 

Thy coming, save mj- love thou might thus grieve? 
If this the cause, well hast thou played thy part, 

In that thou came so near to break my heart! 



SONNET XII. 

THY love is bold, thy kisses hot and free, 

Thy cheeks are flushed with ruddy life and joy; 
No other love was e'er so sweet to me, 

If but its sweets do not in using cloy. 
The dew upon thy lips is spiced with wine, 

The subtle poppy lurks within thy breath: 
The bas'lisk charms from out those eyes of thine; 

My feet must follow wheresoe'er thy path, 
Nor can I turn me to the right nor left. 

Had I the wish, but still must follow on. 
My heart is thine nor was its taking theft, 

Nor do I miss it now, although 'tis gone. 
O happ}'- Heart to be thus in thy thrall 

With chains so light they are not felt at all! 



SONNET XIII. 

THY bowers are wonderful in flowers and song ; 

Thy roses fling their banners to the skies, 
As if they all were benisons! Along 

The valleys carpeting, the clover lies 
In seas of color, running in red waves 

That rise and fall before the swelling breeze. 
The Zephyrs haste with song, like joyous slaves 

From out the fairest gardens such as these, 
To bring to thee the earth's unmixed perfume, 

In crystal vases woven of the air, 
Expressed by them from ev'ry separate bloom, 

The sweetest sweet unto the fairest fair! 
Because thy reign is Beauty's and because 

Thy beauty unto thee all beauty draws. 



SONNET XIV. 

COME! through the dewy paths let us now go, 

While morning folds its golden robes about 
The glowing forms of beauty, while the glow 

Of crimson joy has banished ev'ry doubt; 
And thou with me can in the festive train 

March on in triumph, thou to lead the host, 
I at thy side, and in my heart made vain: 

For one poor smile from thee, is better far, 
Than wreath of laurel won and worn in state ; 

Thine eye outshines Ambition's luring star, 
Thy love outweighs the trophies of the great, 

Because thou givest rest, when won, while they 
From hearts that win banish all rest aM^ay. 



SONNET XV. 

I do not know — I do not understand 

Thee and thy love! Thy beauty is most fair — 
Thou hast love's mystery at thy command — 

His glory wearest in thy burnished hair: 
From out thine eyes look things unspeakable, 

And yet they kindle all my sovil aglow; 
Thy breath hath sweets of rose and daffodil; 

With soul of fire thou art as cold as snow; 
Thy kisses burn my lips yet soothe my soul ! 

The glory of thy robes fill me with fire ; 
In waves to drown mad passions o'er me roll, 

Yet from them springs newborn, Love's chaste desire. 
If thou wovildst look on me with kindly eye. 

All other love in this glad heart would die! 



SONNET XVI. 

I know that I did say I would forget 

All other love save thine; that I would hide 
The once fair face that lingers sweetly yet 

Within my heart of her my love-trothed bride. 
Thou art not pleased with this my promise — nay, 

Thou art offended with the very thought, 
And would have ev'ry vestige plucked away — 

All memory bU)tted out, all dreams forgot — 
The face of nature changed, and e'en the flowers 

That blossomed at her feet uprooted, all 
The birds, the songs, the brooks and shady bowers 

Forever dead or silenced! Is Love's thrall 
Worth all that sacrifice? When one is slave 

In chains, what boots it if he may be brave! 



SONNET XVII. 

THE moonlight filled tiiy bower with silver flood, 

The woven flowers festooned thy leafy bed; 
Above thy head like snowdrifts dashed with blood, 

There twined and bloomed the white rose with the red ; 
The light flashed on thy face through parted leaves, 

And thou didst seem the sweetest flower of all 
That blossomed there. Although it sorely grieves 

My love for its lost love, yet to recall 
The lost brings sadness to the heart at best, 

While thou, so beautiful, doth beckon me 
Within that bower with thee to be at rest, 

How can I now refuse to oome to thee? 
In thy soft arms O take me! and the past 

Into the darkness I forever cast ! 



SONNET XVIII. 

NOW that I have th>^ love and I have sworn 

A lover's fealty to thy gracious court, 
The sweetness of thy smile so lightl)^ worn 

On lips that bless, with gayer thoughts comport, 
And lead me on to where the pathways trend 

To sylvan groves and bowers where thou dost hide 
From eyes that haunt, and in their shades defend 

Thy charms from spoiler when thy smile denied. 
I now would follow whither thou wouldst lead, 

I know no joy save what thou bringest me; 
Thy law of love has now become my creed; 

Of that I know not, save as learned from thee! 
Thou art to me mine eyes, my speech, my heart, 

If ought beside there is, then that thou art! 



SONNET XIX. 

WHAT if thou too shouldst leave me now my love 

Has gone to thee ! 'Twould make my heart so poor 
That beggary would riches be above 

The wealth of worlds! A heart hast thou secure 
That now — and if thou wilt — forever more 

Will be to thee as truth itself is true! 
Is love no more, since its first dream ie o'er, 

Than breath of sweetness blown from gardens new? 
I look within thine eyes and in them see 

The paradise of an immortal youth. 
While in thy bowers is Love's eternity, 

And thy sweet promises of life are truth! 
Why do we fright our joys with ghosts of dreams, 

While o'er the hills the day's sweet sunlight streams? 



SONNET XX. 

THIS is indeed my love's delirium, 

And it is meet that it should seize my brain; 
All nature would cry out, if I were dumb, 

The very hills would to the seas complain I 
For thou art lavish with thy smiles as I 

Have drank the vintage of thy hands, until 
The flagons of thy choicest wines are dry; 

And yet, as I draw forth they quickly fill 
And I grow drunken with the last, because 

It floweth from the wells of thy rich heart, 
To fill the cup thine own fair hand now draws. 

This wine of love of thee becomes a part. 
And so in drinking it I drink of thee : 

O wondrous draught, thine hand has drawn for met 



SONNET XXI. 

WERE those not kisses which upon my brow, 

M}'^ lips, my eyes, I felt as I awoke? 
I feel them, each one softly burning now, 

And I ara grieved because my slumber broke — 
Not that I did awake to find thee near — 

But that thou ceased to kiss me ! Wherefore keep 
Thy kisses for my skimbers? Dost thou fear 

Me, waking, so dost steal upon my sleep? 
If thou wilt kiss me thus, then will I lie 

And for thee sleep the days and nights away! 
Bvit they are sweeter waking and — O fie ! 

I did but wish thy kindness to repay. 
IJwill to sleep; If thou shouldst kisses take, 

Fear not again thy kisses will awake! 



SONNET XXII. 

THOU art of moods so varied that I dare 

Sometimes scarce look vipon thee; then again 
Thou art as morn with tlowers and sunshine fair. 

Fresh waking in the perfume-scented plain, 
With earth all sweetness, skies without a cloud 

Or shadow anywhere ! I cannot read 
Thee as I can the skies, though shadows crowd 

The sunshine back: the flowers with honey feed 
The bees that pip their sweets; I know somehow. 

As does the bee, fresh flowers will bloom again 
In place of those it robs to-day, if thou 

But turn thy face from me, 'tis not in vain 
I wait, for thou dost of to-day but borrow 

To make it all the brighter for to-morrow? 



SONNET XXIII. 

SO it was truth I said of thy strange moods ! 

If they would always be as on this day 
Here I would find my paradise, with floods 

So high they sweep my very soul aM-ay 
Into the realms of life's beatitudes! 

It seems sometimes I've dreamed of earthly love, 
With kisses for its sweeter interludes, 

While unseen hands their purple visions wove 
In bowers of fancy decked in bright array; 

But thou hast robbed my dreams and made them poor 
Beside the riches of thy love to-day, 

And it would seem that I can dream no more! 
Why should I dream, in truth, when thou hast made 

Of life a vision that can never fade ! 



SONNET XXIV. 

BUT let me kiss tliee once again, love, there ! 

Now close those eyes whose wondrous liquid blue 
Against the peace of hearts their war declare, 

With neither truce nor rest the whole j^ear through! 
Nay, do not ask me now what all this means; 

Another time when thou art strong to hear, 
I may relate the story. Draw the screens — 

How came they broken so? No matter, dear; 
The Zephyrs find their way much better now, 

To hover witli light wings about tliy bed! 
O how tliesie ringlets dance upon thy brow 

At their soft touch! If sleep had come instead, 
Then might I steal — I did not say a kiss — 

But didst thou say it? O ecstatic bliss! 



SONNET XXV. 

SHE was more beautiful than eA^er seen before ! 

The rose had faded somewhat from her cheek, 
But her blue eyes intensified their power, 

Until beneath her gaze my soul grew weak 
And faint within me, and the more I strove, 

The less the secret I could understand, 
Or fathom it with plummet of my love ! 

When to my lips I lifted her fair hand 
To seal a kiss upon its finger-tips, 

Those eyes were eloquent in their reproof, 
Which said as plainly as her lifted lips. 

Had they but spoken in their own behoof, 
That kisses should not be on fingers pressed — 

And so it was her meaning that I guessed. 



SONNET XXVI. 

THE tale is this, the little that I know, 

I found thee at the dawn, as I thought, dead ! 
Thy bower was one wild wreck, all beaten so, 

Where flowers and trees, that desolation spread 
Its ragged mantle ove-r all the land ! 

There was nor rose nor lily anywhere — 
Save the few buds still grasped in thy cold hand. 

Half -hid beneath thy long and tangled hair ! 
Thy garments were like fringed and tattered flags 

From battle-storm come forth — thy limbs half bare 
Were bruised and purple — yet beneath thy rags 

Thou wert in all this ruin wondrous fair ! 
As burst the sun through golden-rifted cloud 

And wrapped thee in a soft and purple shroud ! 



SONNET XXVII. 

THIS is no dream .but wondrous waking truth, 

And all the time grows sweeter to the taste; 
I drink of it as fountain of my youth, 

And from thy lips thy kisses warm and chaste 
Renew my love and it renews my iife; 

Whfle joy grows brighter in tiiy smile, and peace 
Within has hushed all sounds of warring strife, 

And bid my doubts and fears forever cease ! 
If thou wert all my own as is thy love, 

Then would I know no more the touch of pain ; 
Give me this boon and to me once more prove 

That where thou lovest nothing is in vain ! 
"When in my arms I clasp thy form once won, 

With thee my joy will be but just begun. 



SONNET XXVIII. 

AND thou dost give this promise at the last! 

Which makes me all to thee and thou to me, 
The all in all ! So, now the night is past, 

The vision of the glorious day I see 
Rise with a sun that nevermore shall set 

Upon my happiness! The purple dawn 
But lingers with its deeper crimson yet. 

Until the shadows of the night are gone, 
And then with golden cincture, burnished zone, 

And crown for thy most glorious, shining hair. 
Thou wilt come forth to wed and be my own ! 

And with the smoking incense on the air 
From Love's Hymenial altar shall ascend 
Joy's benison, whose song shall never end! 



SONNET XXIX. 

THOU Cometh forth, my glorious bride, with morn, 

In purple robes soft folded on thy breast ! 
Thy nuptial bower a thousand hues adorn, 

And odors from the hearts of roses pressed. 
Like falling dews besprinkle thy fair brow ! 

Of all the beings love has truly blest 
I am the one supremely happy now! 

I faint with joy! With happiness oppressed, 
Ecstatic visions fill my reeling brain ; 

A thousand hues prismatic round me float ! 
I die to earth that I may live again 

With thee in some blest region far remote ? 
No, no, not that! I die to all, save joy, 

And the rich sweets of life Love cannot cloy ! 



SONNET XXX. 

NAY, wait not until shadows fall, and night 

Drops softly on the drowsy couch of Sleep, 
Before the vow which blesses marriage rite 
Is spoken ! No, no ! Do not longer keep 
This blessing back, lest some invidious sprite 

Put all awry just as the trembling lip 
Presses the rim, where full and sparkling bright 

The wine of life is tempting it to sip ! 
Thou promised it at morn, and now the day 

Is spent almost unto the set of sun! 
Like shadows on my life the deepening grey 

Will into night and darkness now soon run ! 
The Priest of Nature waits ! O glorious boon ! 
Come when he will he cometh not too soon. 



AFTERTHOUGHT. 

If we could ring the curtain down in life 

As do the actors when the play is done, 
With garlands still unwithered for the wife 

Of one short hour, the guests scarce gone, 
The chimes of wedding-bells still in the air, 

And joy in waiting for the heart alone. 
While songs of rapture ring out everywhere, 

This life might be a ceaseless round of bliss, 
With gardens blooming under skies most fair, 

And ne'er a sound of sorrow nor of strife : 
But such it cannot be! Nor is it meet 

That life in picture e'en should be like this: 
For Joys will cloy if given too much sweet. 

And clouds that marshal storms across the plain. 

Make sweet the sunshine that succeeds the rain! 



IF all were at our will, what we might do 

Is question asked but never answered well: 

What we might wish might well be answered true, 
Ab truth is understood, yet who can tell 
What adverse fortune with its malic© fell. 

Doth have in store for us. We may pursue 

A path of flowers with sunshine all the way, 

Else storms becloud and hopes give way to fears ! 

The loudest laughter is not always gay. 

Nor is the deepest grief shown in our tears : 
Not as it is but as the truth appears. 

Is what we see. — but be that as it may, 

Or true or false before the test is tried. 
The truth will ever in the end decide. 



INTERLUDE. 

SONNET I. 

WE see the clouds that drift across the sun, 

And underneath the shadows on the plain; 
Nor faster do the clouds than shadows run, 

While sunshine follows after both again : 
E'en so it is when life is first begun. 

That laughter follows after cries of pain; 
That broken hearts may heal and sorrows fly 

If touched by Satyr's Joy-provoking wand; 
And those who lay them down on beds to die, 

Are lifted up by the great healer's hand. 
And songs are sung by lips on which a sigh 
Is trembling yet from storm just passing by ! 

And through that note becomes an anthem grand, 
For lips to chant in choruses of joy. 



SONNET II. 

WHEN our first joy is rudely snatched away, 

We think that we can never smile again ; 
All sombre grown our gardens once so gay, 

And every pleasure has become a pain ! 
Dark night usurps the brightness of the day, 

And Gladness sings in Sorrow's doleful strain; 
Yet ere the clouds have covered half the sky. 

Through vapors dun comes forth the glowing sun*„ 
Her golden banners morn doth gaily fly. 

And what so gloomy at the dawn begun, 
Hath brightened into scenes of smiling joy 

Ere Day hath to the zenith halfway run! 

Before we know our lips have found their song,. 

And new-found anthems in its notes prolong. 



SONNET III. 

TEACH me who would be teacher, that the task 

Is but begun when learned by those I teach ; 
For me is that which I for others ask, 

And all must learn the lesson given each; 
That ours are not the words behind the mask. 

With hollow sounds alone and empty speech ! 
"We too should know, we too should feel the power 

That lies behind the lesson in the heart: 
To us the gold in every passing hour 

Is just as rich, and we have more than part. 
For we must plant and water in the flower. 

And reapers be in fields of life and art ; 
Then, harvested with that which we have sown. 
The sheaves we gather are not all our own. 



ELLULA. 

SONNET I. 

I do not understand the things I see, 

Nor do I understand myself, ae well ; 
Things are not what they are, or seem to be. 

Else I am not myself! Some subtile spell 

Has wrought upon all things, nor can I tell 
"What is the true, and what the false to me. 

I look around me now as one who comes 

Led by some chance, through gardens old and strange 
Into a land where every flower that blooms, 

Seems changed some way, without a sense of change; 

And wheresoe'er my eyes, inconstant, range, 
There seem familiar forms where darkness glooms, 

Like dreams of home, which wait with faces bright 

To welcome my return to them to-night. 



SONNET II. 

OH, wondrous glory of this morning's dawn, 
Which fills the earth and skies with liquid hues! 

Scarce has the night his fleeting skirt withdrawn. 
Trailed in the odor of the sparkling dews. 
And Day through purple ports his course pursues, 

When I behold, now that the night is gone, 

Old friends whose garments, although soiled and worn 
Like ermine on the faded robes of kings. 

Tell of a glory past, their freshness shorn. 
Whose vanished beauty its pale lustre flings 
Like starlight which to western shadows clings, 

Relunctant yielding to red-crested Morn ; 
So in their faded tinsel I behold 
The memory of what once w^as Hope's pure gold! 



SONNET III. 

WHO smiling comes with these my friends of yore- 

A vision of a vision here revealed ? 
Her form and features I have seen before — 

Familiar are to me, although concealed 

By subtile veil; the fatal hurts, unhealed, 
Within my heart leap at approach, while sore 

Confusion covers my half-blinded sight, 
And I see double where there is but one. 

Alike and not alike; beneath the light 
The shadows deepen and together run, 

And where they blend as one in composite, 
Lo, there a third! Is then anew begun 

The ended dreams that vanished in the night? 

Or eometh Hope to me with morn's first light? 



SONNET IV. 

ANOTHER one, else one of the lost twain? 

The features are of both, yet not of each ! 
I seek for either one in her in vain, 

Yet, greeting her, the welcome-hand I reach 

To both in one ! To solve this mystery, teach 
Me how it is that they can come again, 

And yet not come; if still perchance it be. 
In her are both the lost, else teach me how 

Mine eyes deceive me, so that what I see 
Is not what is before me, mocking now 
With hopes long lost that perished with the vow 

That seems a dream, and must be now to me! 
If favors past I can no more receive, 
I pray thee now of thy sweet blessing give ! 



SONNET V. 

HER garments are more sombre in their hues, 
Yet richer in the depths of varied dyes ; 

The gayer tints that charmed before they lose, 
Yet for that loss the golden touch supplies 
In purple, brown and crimson, while there vies 

With these, carnation splashing like red dews 

Her robe's broad hem, while at her milk-white throat 

A necklace of the bitter-sweet is tv/ined; 
Upon her bosom's fair expanse I note 

Are flowers with ripe and teeming fruits combined, 
And o'er her head in golden halos float, 

The dreamy mists that waver with the wind ! 
But she, voluptuous, charming, yet sedate. 
Is more to me than Hope could incarnate. 



SONNET VI. 

SHE comes this way ! and following in her train 

March on the hosts of those who eing her praise ! 
How beautiful her smile ? The thought is vain, 

Yet in it seems the light of other days ! 

What majesty is hers ! — not haughty ways, 
B\it queenly where that queen's is woman's reign; 

How joyful is the gaily marching throng, 
That follows ! — Never such the first did lead — 

How grand their chorus of triumphal song. 
With anthems which their notes of praise succeed ; 
How grateful to her heart their tribute meed 

The echoes still in charming notes prolong ! 
I would that they would linger through the day, 
Else in thy smile that I might bask alway ! 



SONNET VII. 

I thought they had been beautiful, and were, 

If that is beauty in the maid we call 
The charm of childhood, waxen skin, bronzed hair, 

Cheeks splashed with carmine, piping voice and all 
That makes the painted image softly fair: 

But she who comes — how can can I speak her praise 
In words that even I can understand. 

Explaining to my heart ? My captive gaze 
Holds me enchained, obedient to command. 
While I reach out to her impotent hand, 

Pleading release, else captive led always, 
I at her side may go. Make me such slave, 
Or bear my heart back to its unsealed grave. 



SONNET VIII. 

SHE smiles on me and I will speak to her ! 

Fair maid or matron, whichsoe'er thou art, 
Thou art most beautiful ! As worshiper 

Who stands afar and with a leaping heart 

Looks on his templed god who stands apart, 
Sees in the stone the living spirit stir, 

So I in thee, more beautiful than wrought 
Of ivory in pure and spotless mold, 

See thy immortal self, Love's living thought, 
So grandly formed, so sweetly in thee told. 
That I, because despairing, have grown bold — 

Now seek thy smiles that to this heart have brought 
Returning Hope, that long has fled my breast. 
Back once again to seek her longed-for rest ! 



SONNET IX. 

THOU art not coy so that my praises shame ! 

Thine is to love because that love is sweet ; 
So, thou to thoso who seek thee without blame 

Doth give their own due portion to them meet, 

Since thou hast much in varied store complete ; 
But unto him whom thou the first doth name. 

What wondrous richness poured upon his head ! 
Not Plutus' gift could with it e'en compare ! 

Its power would almost wake him from the dead- 
Would snatch him from the deeps of Hope's despair, 
And turn the deserts into gardens fair, 

Renew the stars from which the light has fled ! 
Give me that love, that more than joy divine, 
That I among the blest of earth may shine ! 



SONNET X. 

HOW beautiful thy feet, with dew-wet soles, 

Blushing as morn just breaking o'er yon hill! 

The mist aside its fleecy mantle rolls. 

And gentle dews their flashings drops distill, 
While seas of light their golden censers spill 

Down eastern slopes, and flowing to the poles 

The daylight hastens in a joyous wave! 

Yet thou art brighter than the glowing day, 

And to its glory, thou so blithe and brave. 

Doth add new charms from halos that now play 
Like coronals around thy brows alway ! 

Let me my soul in thy full glory lave, 

While thou as priestess at the altar bless. 

E'en if it be by thy soft hand's caress! 



SONNET XI. 

HOW beautiful the purple fringe that eve 

Doth drop across the closing ports of day, 

Where thou, beneath the arch dotii now receive 
Its triple golden crown to wear alway 
As queen now regnant, whom I must obey, 

And will to thee a glad obeisance give ! 

For have not we through all these gladsome hours 
Walked hand in hand among the teeming groves, 

And plucked their fruits, made garlands of their flowers, 
To crown the richest, sweetest of earth's loves? 

And now the sceptered night the day approves. 

And leadeth us to lotus-scented bowers. 

Where love hath spread the feast with fruits and wine, 
O'er which shall flash for lamps those orbs of thine. 



SONNET XII. 

SOOTHE with soft kisses from thy red-ripe lips, 
And fill the cup thy hand alone shall give ; 

Then crush the crystal, for no other sips 

Where thou hast kissed in blessing it! I live ! 
The cup from which I drank, before a sieve, 

Through whose wide meshes every blessing slips ; 

But this one holds to the last drop I drink, 

Nor wastes one sweet! And thou hast also spread 

For me a couch of roses where I sink 

Love-weary for our own sweet nuptial bed, 
To which from Hymen's altar shortly led, 

We go to slumber on the flowry brink 

Of Lethe's gulf, into whose charmed abyss 
We slip to wake in lands of endless bliss ! 



SONNET XIII. 

O Thou the mystic power of the unseen, 
Yet seen in mystery we fail to know. 

Thou in the night from me hast hidden been, 
To steal upon me like a coward foe 
Whose only thought to work me bitter woe — 

Hast stolen from my bower my heart's fair queen, 

And left me here bereft and desolate 

Within this crimsoned lined and fragrant spot, 

Whose beauty dazzles with her recreate 

And crowning glory, which, since she is not. 
Hath faded into nothing and forgot, 

All save her face ! The things I loved, I hate. 
Because thou robbest me of her whose smile 
Doth e'en the darkness of its gloom beguile. 



SONNET XIV. 

BEHOLD she cometh with the sunrise flush, 

A flaming glory twined about her brows! 
The waking songsters for a moment hush 

Their songs; the sleeping cattle rouse 

And gaze with wondering eyes ! Like Vestal Vows- 
That crime for which chaste nature hides a blush — 
Their awe restrains while yet sweet passion fires 

The quickened pulse to wild and fervid flood ; 
And I, whose hope to higher things aspires, 

With soul aflame and madness in my blood 

As one who hath by fortune been withstood, 
Wait her approach, the sum of my desires. 

With quivering limbs and lips that stand apart. 
And gasp for breath that sobs from bursting heart ! 



SONNET XV. 

THOU hast again returned to me, sweet maid ! 
How couldst thou leave me to my soul's distress ? 

I missed thee at the dawn, and sore afraid 

I sought thee, whom to lose, my life were less 
A loss to me ! One smile, one light caress 

Hath all my anxious watching well repaid ! 

While in thy hair, thine eyes, thy face I see 
The glory of the morning fresh with dew. 

Which bathes thy soul, and shining forth in thee, 
In wondrous beauty now transformed, I view 
That power which doth immortal youth renew, 

And adds its glory in supreme degree, 

Because thou art the pattern and the mould 
In whom a perfect beauty I behold ! 



SONNET XVI. 

BENEATH thy grand pavilion thou hast spread 
A banquet for the world, or so would seem 

The bounty of thy hands. Above my head 

In curtained blue and gold the archways gleam, 
Whose bannered flags against the sunlight stream. 

While festooned flowers their richest fragrance shed : 

Great tankards swell with ruddy gleaming wine ; 
The orchards bring their stores of every clime, 

With purple grapes from every famous vine. 

Figs, citrons, dates, with orange, quince and lime, 

Pile high the boards, while music's softened chime 
Floods the whole air with choruses divine: 
Yet thou art sweeter, richer far than these. 
For thou dost satisfy, they only please. 



SONNET XVII. 

THOU hast not answered, me the question I 

Have asked thee, nor hast thou refused my suit ; 

All that I hope awaits delayed reply; 

My life is thine to make or else undo it. 
If thou deny, then of the bitter fruit 

I must partake and eating of it die! 

I look into thine eyes and there I read 

As book of truth thy soul of love and grace ! 

Though shadows lurk within their depths indeed. 
And tears have left upon their lids their trace, 
Yet in the glory of thy shining face 

Enough I see to prove Love's simple creed; 

Press home thy cause and trust, that do I now. 
And bend the knee and still repeat my vow. 



SONNET XVIII. 

LET us walk in the woods this afternoon! 

And as we stray along the winding path, 

We see the blue and Boftly silvered moon 

Hang crescent-shaped mid-sky — no light it hath- 
A silent sign of long forgotten wrath. 

And deadly pale ! The day is in a swoon, 

The birds are still, a soft and filmy haze 

Reddens the sun, an hundred colors vie 

With each to paint the trees, the slanting rays 

Drop golden ladders from the cloud-fringed eky, 
On v/hich to mount who hath not wings to fly, 

And walk along the sun's bright, golden ways ! 

If thou with me wouldst mount this golden stair 
Together we would seek yon regions fair ! 



SONNET XIX 

THE moon comes from her shroud a deathly v/hite, 
The purple sky grows cold, the shadows creep 

Along the bosky ground ; the pale, gray night 
Feels wet with dews ; a silence hushed and deep 
Comes from the solemn woods where softly sleep 

Gray-crested forms which people but the light ! 
Cling close my sweet! I will not let thee fear; 

Thou art a light to me that I may lead 

To where the moon-light falling soft and clear, 

A silvery pathway paves for us indeed ! 

There is no night where thou art, and no need 
Of sun or moon or stars when thou art near ! 

"Were I storm-cast upon a shoreless sea, 

Thine eyes would be a beacon-light to me ! 



SONNET XX. 

I once had thought that passion must be love, 

And that the brain in its mad whirl must &v.^im 

And hot blood seethe through pulsing veins to prove 
Its truth; else it, a mystery vague and dim 
That e'en imagination scarce could limn, 

Ethereal as the liquid vault above — 

Until I learned of thee the wondrous truth 

Which thou hast taught, that neither one 

Is love ! Hot passion may be best for youth, 
Yet, when it dies the little love is gone ! 
A dream may solace, but when it is done 

The waking hour is bitterness forsooth ! 

Deep flows the tide where still the waters seem, 
So love is neither passion nor a dream. 



SONNET XXI. 

I have drunk the maddening wine when strong, 

And felt its fires in hot excess of pain 
Run as yon flame the withered grass among, 

And burn and sere its impress on my brain, 
And thought that I was happy ! And again 

1 drank, and drank again ! and then in song 
I shrieked the follies of my mad excess. 

And thought I made sweet music ; but, Alas ! 

In it there was no taste of happiness: 

I never knew e'en what its flavor was 

As I in madness drained the poisoned glass, 

Until for me thy generous hand did press 
The new wine of a vintage thou alone 
Hath to my blinded eyes in pity shown ! 



SONNET XXII. 

THE day cannot be always sunshine nor 

Can night be always shadow ! Each to each 

Is foil and hath its separate beauty for 

The lesson which the other is to teach. 

The breakers guard the low and flowery beach: 

The lilies grow in beds that we abhor: 

Thy brow must wear some frowns if but to show 

The brightness of its smile when it has cleared : 

Across the coming storm is flung a bow, 

The promise there foreshown has ever cheered 
And plucked the terror from the thing we feared, 

And made of it a blessing to us, so 

Thy smiles to-day are promises foreshown 
Of blessing e'en before our sorrow's known! 



SONNET XXIII. 

O sweet and golden dajs ! how bright ye seem, 

With flowers and flaming woods and glowing hills ! 

The waters flash where piercing sunbeams gleam, 
And ripened fruits whose odor now distils 
Through all the air, until its fragrance fills 

The woods where e'en the shadows softly dream 

Of things unspeakable! And thou, my sweet, 
Art with me in this hour of all the hours 

That haste to bring to us on shining feet 

The world of beauty in its blooming flowers 
That gather into one its myriad bowers 

Where we together in its depths may meet — 

And thou, crowned queen, enthroned shall reign 
O'er air this beauty where thou lead'st the train! 



SONNET XXIV. 

I hear sweet songs along the valleys sung, 
Nor wonder that the singers are so gay; 

It seems that ev'ry leaf must have a tongue, 
While Zephyr's strains Aeolian softly play. 
A thousand pencils brilliant colors lay 

On leaf and grass, until festoons are hung 

From every tree, and on the green-sward spread 
The woven patterns of a thousand hues 

Give back no sound when on their hearts we tread, 
But moistened by the light, refreshing dews 
A grateful fragrance they around diffuse ; 

Because that thou art here, benignant shed 
Is all this glory, blessing all for thee, 
Whilst thou, receiving it, art blessing me! 



SONNET XXV. 

THE winds blow chill, the leaden clouds hang low, 
The birds have hushed their songs, or sing 

In quavering notes; uneasy cattle go 

Where thicker copsewood furnish sheltering 
From winds that have somewhat of Winter's sting 

In the harsh gusts that now uneven blow. 

The sunshine warming less is paler grown, 
Or so it looks. It may be I am chill — 

Nay, thou are not thyself ! Thy smile has flown, 
And on thy face are lines my bosom fill 
With fear that thou thyself art fallen ill ! 

can it be, that in the hollow moan 

Of things inanimate, now sounds the knell 
That tolls for me the hollow funeral bell ? 



SONNET XXVI. 

IT was a great and shuddering fear that seized 
My heart, made keener by my anxious love : 

But it is past, and I am more than pleased 
To see that thou, the earth, the sky above 
More smiling are to-day: — that glade and grove 

Like prisoners from sudden harm released. 

Are vocal with a thousand songs. Perfume 

More fragrant than the sweet ambrosial balm 

That cheers where spignard and the aloe bloom, 
Fills the wide air ; a sweet and restful cairn 
Stills the plumed fern and stays the spreading palm: 

While thy returning smile dispels my gloom. 
And leaping with a joy new found, I sing, 
A blither song than lark upon the wing ! 



SONNET XXVII. 

THOU art more fair to day than any fair 

To mortal known ! Thy lips are carmine pressed 
From sumac bolls. Thy long and flowing hair 

Like flaming banners streaming down the west 

Now t^vine and burn like serpents on thy breast ! 
With thee the world grows brighter everywhere ! 
And as thy kisses ripen on thy lips 

The bees swarm near, forsaking flowers to come 
And feast upon their sweets ! As daint'ly dips 

The humming-bird into the tulip's bloom, 

So I, as he this cup of Hibly sips. 
Drinking the nectar of thy love's perfume. 

Pour out in kisses from the golden bowl 

Libations on the altar of thy Soul ! 



SONNET XXVIII. 

AND now my fears are past, my hopes fulfilled 

In thy sweet promise making thee my own ! 
The last foreboding doubt forever stilled, 

Fled on the wind and with the cloud is gone ; 

The ripened fruit I pluck from flower scarce blown, 
And from the cup the honey is scarce spilled. 

I wait impatient for to-morrow's dawn, 
When I shall lead thee to the sacred shrine ; 

Then every doubt will be removed and gone 
And thou wilt be forever ever mine ! 

wondrous sweet these promises of thine ! 

Speed night, speed day, speed Time eternal on ! 

1 care not for their flight when thou shalt be 
Companion with them all and I with thee ! 



SONNET XXIX. 

THE eun has risen — a glorious sunrise this ! 

Yet thou art brighter than the god of Day ! 
And bringeth sweeter joy in but one kiss 

From thy red lips than all his gifts convey. 

glorious morn and flowers ! In these alway 
My soul could bask, dissolving into bliss, 
But when thou art companion in such hour 

My love of love's sweet court, how can I speak 
The glorious beauty and the matchless power 

Thou giveth to the scene ? Words are too weak- 

My lips refuse — I know not where to seek 
For words that have the fragrance and the flower 

Of my great joy ! Lean close thy heart on mine; 

Thus may it somewhat of my truth divine. 



SONNET XXX. 

WHY lead so far along the edge of night? 

Our feet still wander from the nuptial bed ; 
The crimson melts into the graj-er light, 

The birds have to their secret coverts fled, 

While we still wander on. What spell hath led 
Thee on so far? How strangely worn and white 
Thy face hath grown! Thou art o'ermastered by 

The long day's joys and so should seek thy rest; 
Nay, stay I pray thee ! Yonder shadows lie 

Beyond the borders, now so closely pressed, 

We may not pass in this the hour so blessed ! 
O stay ! I pray thee do not madly fly 

Into the shadows! Now, Alas, she's gone! 

I will not say farewell, but follow on ! 



CONCLUSION. 

SONNET I. 

MY story I have told and sung my song, 

My task, imperfect though it be, is done; 

The lesson I would teach, if read not wrong 
Were well to heed, for by it more is won 
To man than all besides beneath the sun ! 

Lead where thou wilt or follow with the throng, 
There wilt thou find it, else without it die! 

Yet not one thing alone, but all things meet 
If we, forgetful, do not pass them by. 

The flower untouched gives to the bee no sweet ! 

The wings that hover are of all most fleet 
When on thy missions o'er the earth to fly, 

As Noah's dove, which on the hour's release 

Keturned and brought the Olive Branch of Peace 



SONNET II. 

YOURS is the lesson we have sought to teach; 

Its mystery, if any, is most plain ! 
All things, when sought, are found within our reach, 

Although the way to them may lead through pain. 

If those who fail will turn and come again, 
They'll learn that food for all is meat for each ; 
The vantage lies with those who strive to find! 

We tell our story as it seemeth best; 
It may be we are singing to the wind; 

When we are done 'tis yours to do the rest — 

The richness of the wine is in the test ; 
Our seeing gives not sight unto the blind! 
The taper is of little worth, more shame. 
If it be worth more than the waiting game. 
FINIS. 



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